Unknown Substance off Orion III
by Maevelyn
Summary: Spock wakes up in the middle of his rest period to an emergency. There are dangerous space gases off Orion III. T to be safe. Spock/McCoy
1. Chapter 1

"Bridge to Commander Spock, Bridge to Spock, come in please?"

It was Sulu's voice that I heard. I opened my eyes and pressed my comm button. "Spock here."

"The Captain requests that you come up to the bridge, sir."

"Yes, Mr. Sulu. Spock out."

It would be illogical to try to get any more sleep. Four hours after the Alpha shift should be quite sufficient, I reasoned, as I dressed, pulled on my illogical Starfleet boots, and entered the turbolift.

With the swoosh of turbolift doors, I entered the Bridge.

"Mr. Spock." Captain Kirk acknowledged my presence and swiveled around in his chair. "We have received a transmission from the Orions, uh, Planet Orion III."

"Acknowledged." I said, feeling no need to comment further. Surely the captain knew that Uhura would be more competent in translating and assessing what course of action to take.

"It is a distress signal, Mr. Spock." He said, rising from his chair and pacing now. "A space gas has been travelling towards their planet at an alarming rate, and they expect us to find a solution!"

"Are the properties of this gaseous substance known, Captain?" I asked. He could not expect me to find a solution without any facts. Therefore, I must obtain them.

"No…" he said slowly. "I believe that there is only one course of action. We must warp over and investigate."

"I suggest that we raise our shields, Captain." I stated. To enter an unknown substance would be an unnecessary risk.

"Yeah," he said, swiveling around again and taking a bite out of his apple. "Helm, plot a course to Orion three, warp two."

I walked over to my science station and began to bring up gases on the computer banks. I put my forehead against the familiar binoculars and entered the keyword "accelerating space gases". Having no further information, I stood at attention. Irritation is a human emotion, however, it was inconvenient to be called to research a subject and not have sufficient data. Especially when it is one's designated rest period. I raised an eyebrow a fraction of a millimeter, and lowered it. The captain caught on to my expression and beckoned me over. "It is your time to hit the hay, Spock," he said, "You can crash until 0700 which is when we should be at Orion III."

"Captain, I see no logical reason to collide with anything nor to beat upon a form of Terran grass?" I queried, although I knew that these were Terran colloquialisms. The crew thought it was… amusing, and I saw no harm in correcting his illogic.

"Come on, Spock," he said, "just… go back to sleep."

"Affirmative," I said, and entered the turbolift. When I returned to my quarters, I climbed back into my bed and thought about space gases for several minutes. When I came to the belated conclusion that speculation would not aid me to gain rest, I discontinued all of my trains of thought and fell into a deep sleep.

Rising at 0600, I meditated, precisely performed my daily ablutions, and reentered the bridge. We were in viewscreen sight of Orion III, I noted to myself. "Captain," I said, announcing my presence on the bridge and using the word to serve to ask my next question, "Are there specimens of this gaseous substance already collected?"

"Yeah, yeah, the gas," he said, "It's already taken care of. Science Lab III should contain the data."

Internally noting his illogical use of words, I departed for the science lab. Samples of the gas were in the vacuum sealed containers designed for potentially hazardous materials. Using a tricorder, I began to scan the jar. An unanticipated shock wave rocked the ship, presumably as the gas collided with the deflector shields.


	2. Chapter 2

**McCoy POV**

The beginning of the day was pretty normal, I guess. In Sickbay, everything was quiet. I had Ensign Hillam down here for a case of dermal dysplasia, commonly known as a damn bad sunburn, but it was fine. He got the burn in a very funny manner. He was acting inappropriately with a young yeoman on the viewing deck and was over exposed to the sun's ultraviolet rays. She, being an Orion, had the necessary pigment to avoid the burn. Kirk and I had a good laugh about this over a glass of Saurian Brandy that I deemed was good for the occasion. After all, we were heading on shore leave soon. I invited Spock, but of course he declined. That pointy eared hobgoblin is, of course, incapable of good humor because it's not LOGICAL. He gets my goat.

He's not bad, for an alien. He's not scary looking or strange. His green blood creeps me out a bit when I'm operating, but it's easy because it is blood and not some silicon based Horta like creature. He's got relatively basic bipedal physiology... I'm sure he has to have emotions somewhere. Almost all aliens have them. Thinking over the time that I spent with Spock, I was sure he had them. Emotions, I supposed, one could be conditioned to control them the same way you control anxiety or PTSD. I wondered if he had ever been in love, or if Vulcans had anything like love. They certainly had bondmates and his own father married an American woman. I doubted that a human would marry a man who would never love her.

I was thinking about this as I was signing forms on my PADD at my desk. As much as I hate to admit it, Spock takes up lots of my thinkin'. I tried to sign it off as a medical thing. His physiology and mental processings were so different from that of a human's. It was a purely medical approach, I thought, as I started to read over the last memo on my PADD. A fascinating study of Vulcan biology and psyche. I spent a couple minutes justifying this to myself. And then, the whole ship shook and shuddered.

I leapt to my feet and rushed over to the bio bed where Ensign Hillam was lying, allowing my ointment to seep into his blistering skin. My first priority was to check on my patients, of course, but then I decided that I wanted to get to the Bridge and find out what in the name of the universe was going on.

"You okay, Hillam?" I asked, trying to use a nice, doctor voice instead of my tired, exasperated one. Then, I almost started laughing when I thought about how he got that burn. However, that would be unprofessional. He nodded in affirmative. I was exhausted. I had worked from the start of Alpha shift at 2400, and now it was 0940. Alpha shift lasts until 0400, and that's when Beta shift picks up. Do you think there are any shifts for the CMO? Nope, there aren't, and I'm bone tired is what I am. I'm a physician, not a tireless robot worker. Even Spock, who seemed to be tireless and certainly could crunch numbers in his sleep got a designated time to crash. As I was thinking this, another shock ran through the ship and I sprawled to the deck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Spock POV**

I took the logical course of action and braced my body against the table as the ship experienced its abnormal movement. The transparent aluminum container that was holding the gas sample was fortunately intact. When I was convinced that the ship was steady, I began to examine the gas again. My tricorder readings showed that it was a biological anomaly which had been poisoned by a compound of chemicals. The chemicals contained charged particles, which I deduced were largely the source of the ship's loss of balance when they hit the deflector shields. Fascinating. I began to delve deeper into the problem, but as I did so, I heard the klaxon alarm sound.

_Red Alert. Red Alert. Red Alert. _

Placing the container in a stasis unit, I took the closest exit and made my way to the bridge. On the way, Doctor McCoy hurtled past me, a trickle of blood running down his forehead. Despite his haste, he soon slowed. He only reached the bridge at 5.42 seconds before I did.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he growled as he approached the captain.

"Captain," I stated as I entered, "I am of the opinion that we should distance our ship from this gaseous substance."

"Brilliant," said Kirk, "But I think Bones beat you to that conclusion. Chekov, Sulu: lets get out of here."

The pair grinned and began to punch in the coordinates. Highly illogical. The apparent human mood of the ship did not correspond with grinning.

"Well," said Jim, "What are we looking at, in terms of this…gas?" he looked to me for more information.

"From what I have gathered in my research, I found that it is a negatively charged bio gas."

"A…bio gas, Spock? You off your rocker? After all, nothing can live intact. It only takes a couple nanoseconds for stuff to just… implode." Doctor McCoy raised an eyebrow in a mockery of my own expression.

"I am confident in my findings, Captain." I stated. "The organic matter is dead."

Dr. McCoy spluttered a bit and decided to remain silent, a logical decision. It was always a mental exercise to best the doctor in an argument, and I found myself illogically hoping that he would say something with which I could find fault.

"Carry on, Bones, Spock. I'm sure we can get a solution." Kirk clapped me on the back and proceeded to procure an apple from somewhere and take a giant bite of it. Kirk was arrogant. He even ate an apple during my Kobyashi Maru test. However, to hold it against him was illogical. I terminated that train of thought and diverted to a thought I was having 4.32 minutes ago in the science lab. A thought about the gas. I calmly left the bridge and took a medium pace to the laboratory.


	4. Chapter 4

**McCoy POV**

I left the bridge, trying to save face, but I was fuming. That damn, greenblooded bastard had bested me again. Of course the organic matter must have been dead. Hobgoblin.

When I got back to sickbay, of course there were things for me to be doing. While Spock got a bloody field day studying his precious dead organic matter, I was stuck with Hillam and his blasted dermal dysplasia.

Spock. When he wasn't annoying the hell out of me, I actually liked him, I mused, at my first opportunity to sit in my office. I never let anybody see it, but I had a holo of him, me, and Kirk in my office. People think I'm a grump, hell, I am a grump. But I am not a lonely grump. I'm friends with the crew. They're all decent kids, for the most part. I'm too damn old to be on this ship. So is Spock, but he's a goddamn Vulcan. A cold, unfeeling bastard, or at least, that was what he wanted people to think. I bet he's got feelings in there somewhere.

A splutter from Ensign Hillam startled me and I raced to his side. The fool had managed to pull his IV out, and it splattered on his back. It must have. "Damn it, kid, I'm a doctor, not a babysitter!" I grouched as I mopped it up and stuck the IV back in. I would have asked Chapel to get me some more skin regenerating hydration aid mixture, but of course she had to be on leave for… oh, it was time for lunch. Everybody is having a break, except their good old Doctor. I fumed, imagining Spock eating a bowl of plomeek soup. Christine would be sitting with him, attempting to subtly seduce him. Ha. He wouldn't fall for that.

I whistled as I mosied over to the lab and started mixing up the liquid for Hillam's IV. I was actually jealous of Christine. Now that Uhura had left poor Spock, the ladies of the Enterprise were after him full warp ahead. I guess there's something about having a puzzle to crack that makes ladies swoon after him. Hell, I wouldn't mind eating lunch with Spock. Not that I'd swoon, of course, but he IS a puzzle. Then again, there is probably a lot of stuff I don't need to know about that bastard. Damn it, I didn't need to know anything about the hobgoblin. Still a bit peeved, I cleaned the blood off my blanched and pallid brow and ordered a nice salad from the replicator. While everybody was able to eat their lunches in company, I was alone. Scratch that: I was alone with Hillam and his idiotic sunburn. Even he got it while in the company of somebody. A beautiful, sensual Orion lady... I hadn't had a lady love since my Jocelyn betrayed me suddenly and left with sweet little Joanna. Even though I think of the Enterprise crew as my family... Damn that hobgoblin. If I had the same schedule as him, I would be able to catch up with friends. Friends.


	5. Chapter 5

A method must be devised to neutralize the charge.

That fact had not escaped my knowledge. However, creating the procedure to neutralize the charge of the gaseous, biomatter substance was not a simple one.

"Computer, scan matter for negatively charged elements."

"The main negatively charged element is ununseptium, Commander."

"More information, Computer."

"This atom contains many shells and has a reaction number of -1. Electronegative. This element is part of the Halogen Category. Halogens are toxic when inhaled. The electron configuration of ununseptium is 5f14 6d10 7s2 7p5, Element is synthetic. Half life-"

I discontinued listening to the computer's readout and began to contemplate the object at hand. As the good doctor would say, I began to "wrack my brains". The good doctor. Leonard McCoy. This particular Terran consumes 9.47 % of my thoughts. Realizing that any thought of the doctor was futile with this scientific enigma to resolve, I dismissed these thoughts and began to concentrate 89.95 percent of my attention upon the matter at hand. 10% remained alert, searching for any new data that I was not currently taking into account on my research. And although it was highly illogical, I found that .05% of my attention was fixated on Leonard McCoy, what arguments he could possibly create, and proper retorts. It was…mentally stimulating to provoke the good doctor. In my alone moments, allowing my carefully suppressed Terran side to show, I believe I sighed. That particular train of thought would not help me, I once again attempted to discontinue those notions.

Gas. Negatively charged. Indistinguishable biomatter with negative charge. Electronegative. Halogen. I reviewed my list of information.

"Computer, review size of biomatter anomaly."

"Size. Twenty kilometers by eighty kilometers, Commander."

"Computer, review speed of biomatter anomaly."

"Speed. Half warp, Commander."

After spending 32 seconds working through the possible causes of such an anomaly, I found a conclusion. After securing the samples, I purposefully strode up to the bridge.

"Mister Spock, do you have any answers?" asked Captain Kirk.

"Affirmative, Captain," I said, and began to repeat my findings. "This substance is ununseptium, part of the halogen group, electronegative. Halogens are poisonous when inhaled. Judging by the speed and regular size of the anomaly, it is my opinion that Orion III is under attack."

"Under attack?" asked Kirk. "Who?"

"I do not have sufficient data, Captain," I answered. "My theory is that the ununseptium is meant to be delivered into their atmosphere as a poison. The negative charge is meant to keep space ships away from the matter until it is delivered into the Orion atmosphere."

"That's good to know, Spock, but we need to know WHAT to do about this."

"Captain, I do not have the answer. Ununseptium can combine with oxygen to create a compound similar to nitric acid."

"Having nitric acid in the Orion atmosphere isn't good either, Spock."

I raised an eyebrow. It was not as if I didn't know. Obviously, the Captain was under the Terran condition of stress. I looked over the bridge, noting the signs of stress on all of their faces. Chekov was biting a stylus. Sulu looked exhausted. I allowed myself to glance at Lieutenant Uhura. Her brow was furrowed as she scanned the broadcasts. I looked away. It was too painful to look at the first person I had ever loved. It was illogical. Highly illogical.

"Spock?" Captain Kirk brought me back to the present.

"I require more research to draw a conclusion and decide on a course of action." I stated, and waited for him to dismiss me from the bridge. After a couple minutes without a response I stated again. "I must research this in the Science Lab."

"Dismissed Spock," he said.

Briskly, I left the bridge.


	6. Chapter 6

**McCoy POV**

Of course, I had to run into him on my way to the bridge. Spock. I was expecting some form of remark, or at least a raised eyebrow from that bastard, but he turned his face quickly away from me as I walked by. Remarkable. At first, I thought that maybe he had finally figured out how exasperating I thought he was. It only took me a second to realize that he was exhausted, and something else was wrong too.

"Commander," I said, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Doctor," he said, "I have not the time nor the concentration to parry your onslaught of illogic at the moment."

"I am not seeking you out to pick your brains, Spock," I said, trying to sound like a concerned, friendly doctor instead of the usual grump.

"What are you seeking?" he asked.

"Nothing!" I spluttered slightly. "You look bone tired, Spock. You ought to get some sleep."

"I rose at 0900, doctor," he stated, but his eyes betrayed his fatigue. "Oughtn't you to sleep?"

That was enough. "I know when to throw the towel in, Spock. Get some rest."

"Hobgoblin," I muttered under my breath.

I didn't even pause to look back at the Vulcan, who was probably trying to come up with some kind of smart remark.

Green blooded extraterrestrial. Obviously, I shouldn't have been so concerned about him. There was no reason for me to care about him, after all. It's not like he was my child, or god forbid, some sort of life partner I was bound to. He was just an annoying coworker. Except when he wasn't annoying, and then I actually liked and respected that goddamn Vulcan.

I didn't want to even think that way. Attempting to banish him from my mind, I decided to get a start on reorganizing all of my medicine cabinets. The replicators could make most medicines, but for the especially flammable or sensitive chemical and bio combinations I preferred to stock them at each starbase. A shipboard fire was one of the biggest hazards that a crew could face.

"Ensign?" I called, peering into Sickbay. He did not answer. He was sleeping soundly, lying on his stomach with his much improved burns facing upwards. When he awoke, I could slap a biobandage on him and he would be as good as new while his skin grew into the artificial fabric, deconstructing it as it grew. And finally, I would have some goddamn peace and quiet.

I opened a cabinet, humming idly and fiddling with some glass instruments. It was a lot less messy than I assumed it would be. Last time we lost the artificial gravity was three months ago, so except for an overturned bottle of antiseptic, everything was pretty normal. Considering the nasty shocks that coursed through the ship a couple hours ago.

Damn. That got me to thinking about Spock again. Setting my teeth, I started reciting the Hippocratic Oath under my breath as I furiously mopped up the amber antiseptic. "I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Spock POV**

I struggled to keep my composure until I was safely behind closed doors. Only then was I able to securely vent my frustration. I frowned as I started to inspect the sample for a third time. "Ununseptium," I muttered, trying to stay on focus. "Can combine with oxygen to create… nitric acid…" I couldn't continue as my throat began to clog and my eyes were stinging with tears. This whole situation was just too much, just too much for me to handle. My life, up until a year ago, was perfectly adequate and kept me content. Now, the loss of my planet, and the loss of two very important people in my life continued to rise to the surface of my mind time and time again.

The loss of my mother was the hardest to deal with. She was the only person to whom I had ever shown my emotional side. The only person with whom I shared my most private thoughts, however childish they sounded, without fear of a reprimand or of embarrassing my family by proving I was capable of illogic. The second loss was the loss of my relationship with Nyota Uhura.

Nyota. Our first, halting kiss in the turbolift. I was already overcome with emotion, allowing it to come to the front of my being. I… enjoyed it. For a short time, Nyota mesmerized me, and lead me further and further away from the path of logic. A memory resurfaced.

_"Spock," she said, one night after we had eaten together in my quarters,"we can't keep doing this." She pulled out of my arms and looked at me intensely, her dark eyes full of emotion._

_"Doing what, Nyota?" I asked, trying to bring her back into my arms._

_"I love you, Spock, but I have the feeling that you love somebody else. You may be trying to hide it, even from yourself. But I know you. We can't continue."_

_She kissed me on the cheek and left the room. My superior Vulcan olfactory nerves could still pick out the scent of her perfume, lingering in the air. After initial pain, confusion set in. Who was the other to whom she was referring? And how could she sense that?_

Coming back to the present, I was conflicted as I was once as a child. Then, I realized who she meant.


	8. Chapter 8

**McCoy POV**

I was worried. I was worried about that bastard. He seemed so defeated, so tired. I got into one of those doctor-y moods, I supposed. By nature, I am a worrier, so of course that green blooded son of a bitch would worry me.

It's not like I even like him, I grumbled half heartedly to myself as I finished scrubbing up the mess. He's a grown up officer, and he can take care of himself.

A beep brought me back to where I was and what I was doing. It was time for Ensign Hillam to get his biobandage.

"Christine!" I called into the recesses of the sickbay, knowing she had probably already heard the alarm and was hurrying over.

"Yes, Doctor," she called, wheeling over a cart with the biobandages.

Biobandaging is tricky. It's not hard to do, but it's hard to do well. You have to make sure to get the bandage on perfectly or the person will have scars. First, I gave him a hypo for the pain. He would need it.

Christine measured out a long, fleshy length of the bandage. I laid it flat over his back, and cut it carefully, filling all of the burn but making sure it didn't overlap with any real skin. Then, I pressed hard.

Hillam shrieked, and Christine was fast with another hypo. It was a slow, painstaking process preparing his back, but one hour, eight hypos, and fifteen feet of bandage later, his back was as good as new. Christine picked up the pieces of bandage and I painted a sealant over it to keep it all in place. Finally, it was dry.

"You're ready to go, kid," I said, slapping him on the shoulder. "You should keep your shirt on in the observatory!"

He grinned rather sheepishly back at me, winced as he pulled on his shirt, shook my hand and all but raced out of sickbay. I didn't blame him. Sometimes, I want to race out of here too.

Soon, Christine had retreated to her office and I retreated to mine. There was nothing to do on a starry afternoon in the middle space. Actually, I'd rather there wasn't. After all, it's a terrible thing, wishing for sick people to treat. Still, it'd be a welcome change from the monotony.

Still, there was that space gas thing looming over all of us. I overheard a couple ensigns saying that we had a month until it reached Orion III. Still, that wasn't much time at all. I can't do a damn thing about it either. What can a good old country doctor do against a chemical anomaly?

If there was a wager though, I'd have my money on Spock finding the answer. Spock. Was he alright? He looked so fatigued and out of sorts. He was even a very pale green, thinking back on it. Not that he shouldn't be green, with all of that copper in his bloodstream. Still.

I got up. "Christine?" I called.

"Yes, Doctor?" she replied.

"I'm going to, um, go check on a crewmember," I said, grabbing my tricorder and exiting sickbay.

I went as fast as I could, to the science labs.

Door 201 was the door to his private laboratory. "Computer, access for Doctor, McCoy Leonard Horatio," I said. The light turned green and I opened the door.

"Doctor McCoy." He stated upon my arrival. He was studying a hologram of the space gas.

"Spock," I said, "how are you?"

"If you are here for idle chatter, doctor," he said, "I believe that you are in entirely the wrong place."

"Oh, stuff it, Spock," I growled, "you're working hard on this project, barely eating and sleeping—and you know what, you've been doing this since the battle against Nero. You aren't taking care of yourself." I started to walk behind him.

"Doctor, what you are suggesting is highly illo-"

"No, it isn't," I said, "you're upset. You're tired, you're angry, you're upset, you're sad."

"Doctor-"

"Don't 'Doctor' me, Spock, I'm just trying to help you out." I said, putting on my nicest doctor face. I reached over put my hand on his shoulder. It was really warm.

"Doctor, I-"

"It's Bones, or Leonard, Spock, we're friends and we're off duty."

"Leonard…" he said, "what is your reason for visiting me, if you are not here for idle chatter?"

"I already told you, goddamnit," I said, "You need to stop working. You're bone tired, Spock."

"There is an anomaly in space which must be neutralized or a whole planet of people will be severely affected, Doctor. Please remove your hand from my shoulder."

I hadn't even realized that I had left it there that long. Good grief.


	9. Chapter 9

**Spock POV**

_Do not lose control._ I diverted my focus to that internal command I could not lose control, not in front of the doctor – Leonard. I could not allow myself to appear angry, nor could I admit to him that he was correct because that would uncover to him my emotions which I had learned to guard carefully. However, I saw his logic behind the emotional complications. If I was unwell, I would be unable to attend properly to my duties, and the likelihood that the space gas crisis would be resolved would fall significantly. He was simply concerned for the life of a whole planet, and secondarily, for my own welfare. Being a human and accustomed to physical interaction, the probability that he had taken offense was high. I had to attempt to make amends to him.

"Doctor," I began, "please do not view my last comment as – a comment made in haste. Vulcans do not often experience any form of physical interaction."

"Spock," he began, and then shook his head wearily. "Nevermind. You ought to go get some rest, I ought to go get some rest, and we can work on this damned space gas problem tomorrow."

We. To whom was he referring? The Enterprise as a collective, surely.

"I wish to… convey gratitude for your concern, Doctor."

"Leonard," he said, fixing my eyes with his sparkling blue ones.

"Leonard." I repeated, breaking eye contact with him 2.3 seconds later.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"No, I have not required sustenance," I answered.

He smiled at me, with an expression I had learned to read as victorious from my experience in his company. He looked as if he was a Terran cat capturing a Terran mouse in a corner.

"Well then," he said, "we're going to go to the galley and grab some grub."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why should we resort to an impolite method of snatching our midday meal?"

He smiled again, even broader. I realized that another round of verbal sparring was about to commence.


	10. Chapter 10

**McCoy POV**

As soon as I realized I was grinning, I tried to look grumpy. Unfortunately, I was halfway to the mess hall with an almost sulky and certainly resigned Vulcan in tow before I realized that I looked like some sort of maniac. It was easy to become annoyed with the universe again. I had no idea why I was so happy to have the hobgoblin following me, it was like a weight off my shoulders. At least I didn't have to worry about him idiotically neglecting himself for the greater good.

I turned to the nearest replicator and punched in a salad, a mint julep, and a nice, roasted portabello mushroom. Generally, I would have some grilled chicken or a pork chop, but Spock was vegetarian. When in space, I thought, do as the aliens do.

He didn't appear to pick up on this. Fair enough, of course he wouldn't read any display of conforming to societal norms to make him comfortable or me showing compassion or whatever the hell I was displaying. I got slightly frustrated.

He got himself an identical salad and a bowl of protein nibs. I noted that he had made some sort of sauce with them.

"Spock," I asked, "what is that stuff?" It looked alright, I supposed. It was greenish and looked rather oily.

"It is a Terran condiment known as cilantro pesto."

"Do you like it?" I asked, curious. I had never seen him eat anything, really, except plomeek soup that Christine made for him a couple times.

"Affirmative, Doctor," he answered, carefully setting his plate down and sitting stiffly. "It would be illogical for me to consume a condiment I did not enjoy."

"I suppose," I said, tucking into my mushroom. It was quite tasty, actually, for replicator food. The chefs in the galley would make food for functions and would come up with menus for dinners and such, but for our other meals, we were stuck with the replicators.

"What is the deal with that space gas?" I asked later. He was efficiently finishing off his bowl of protein nibs and I was sipping my mint julep.

"It is impossible to have diplomatic relations with a non-sentient entity," he replied sagely, before taking another bite of his protein nibs and that cilantro pesto stuff.

"Ugh, Spock," I said, "I mean how the hell are we going to get rid of this stuff?"

"As of now, I do not have an answer," he said.

"You have three weeks before it gets close to the planet, right?" I asked.

"Affirmative, Doctor. However, the solution will not be instantaneous. We must develop a solution, and then put it in action. This gives our crew approximately 12.5 days to complete the solution and 8.5 days to implement the solution."

"Fair enough," I said, draining my cup. "Well, I'm glad to see that you're eating. Get some rest, you'll want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow!" I knew that colloquialism would irk him.

"Doctor…" He began, but I cut him off.

"For the love of god, Spock, I'm Leonard when we're off duty."

"Leonard," he said, "firstly, I fail to comprehend how affection from a deity relates to our conversation. Secondly, Vulcan physiology differs from that of Terran physiology, a tail is an appendage we do not posess."

"Spock," I answered, "It's a Terran saying. It's like telling somebody to wake up early and be ready to work."

"Except in less concise phrasing."

"Spock, while I really enjoy our discussions, I have got to go back to Sickbay and you have got to go to bed."

"Affirmative…Leonard."

He turned and left. I watched him walk off, put my glass into the disposal unit, and mosied off to the Sickbay.


End file.
